


Some Kind of Disaster

by bashstan



Category: Captain America (Movies), Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Music, Deaf Clint Barton, Everyone Needs A Hug, M/M, Musician Bucky Barnes, Past Bucky Barnes/Brock Rumlow, Past Clint Barton/Bobbi Morse, Past Domestic Violence, Past Drug Use, Roadie Clint Barton, winterhawk - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:48:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23215804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bashstan/pseuds/bashstan
Summary: The Renegades were one of the world's biggest rock bands before they suddenly went dark. As they work on a comeback, they hit a few bumps along the way.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton
Comments: 33
Kudos: 47





	1. Beginnings Are Boring

Something was touching his face.

No, someone was licking his face.

Clint cracked an eye open to a face full of Lucky, who was leaning in to lick him again.

“C’mon, Luck. Let me sleep.” He grumbled, pushing him away weakly. Lucky moved away so Clint draped his arm back over his eyes, drifting back to sleep with ease.

Without missing a beat, Lucky leaped onto his chest and knocked the wind out of him.

“Shit, alright, I’m up!” Clint gasped, looking up at Lucky and scratching behind his ears lazily. After a few moments, Lucky hopped off the bed and trotted out of Clint’s room, satisfied with his attention.

Turning to look at the clock was a bad idea, because that revealed that Clint had slept past 2 in the afternoon. Trying to get out of bed was a bad idea, too, as that made his head pound. Like revenge for the alcohol he drank the night before.

He stumbled his way to the kitchen, one hand combing through his hair as the other covered a yawn. Ground coffee spilled onto the counter as he poured it into the filter, but that was a problem for future-Clint.

There was no breakfast food in the fridge, so he heated up a pepperoni pizza Hot Pocket and poured himself a cup of coffee. His phone was flashing on the counter, so he picked it up to find a missed call from Unknown.

_“Hey, Barton! It’s Coulson. I’m in immediate need of a roadie and I hear you’re not working with your old crew anymore. Can you meet with me sometime this week to discuss the details? Give me a call back at this number either way, I’d like to catch up with you some time.”_

His stomach lurched, thinking about his old crew, and he pushed the coffee cup away.

He considered leaning into the fridge to grab a beer, but then the pounding in his head resumed, as if on cue, and he decided against it.

After a few beats, he bit into the Hot Pocket, grabbed the mug and made his way back into the kitchen.

\---

_“You shouldn’t drink so much coffee, you know.” Bobbi wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her face into his shoulder. “It’s addicting. Makes you dependent.”_

_Clint laughed before lifting the coffee pot to his lips and taking a sip, sighing dramatically afterwards. “But it’s sooooo good, Bobbi.”_

_“You’re the worst!” Bobbi couldn’t help but laugh, pushing the center of his back as she moved away from him. She opened a cabinet and held a mug out to him. “We have these for a reason, Clinton.”_

_“Yeah, for you.” Clint smiled, leaning in to kiss her lips which made her laugh._

\---

On second thought, he probably should have gone with the beer.

The urge to vomit came back, so he fed the rest of the Hot Pocket to Lucky, popped two Advil and went back to bed for an hour.

Just after 4:30, he finally called Coulson back and confirmed a meeting at a coffee shop on Thursday afternoon. That gave him 2 days to clean himself up a little and try to look less pathetic.

The keyword there being ‘try.’

\---

Whether he cleaned himself up by Thursday or not was debatable.

He wore his only pair of black slacks and a purple button up shirt. He just couldn’t bring himself to wear a jacket or tie, no matter how professional he wanted to seem. A pair of relatively clean Chucks finished off the outfit, giving him a casual-but-nice look.

He did comb his hair, though. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d bothered to comb his hair.

If Coulson really needed a roadie so badly, he’d appreciate that Clint had put as much effort as he had in him into looking somewhat presentable for their not-an-interview-meeting.

Besides, Coulson had been the one to get him his very first gig years ago. If he could give a job to the absolute train wreck that was 17-year-old Clint who needed a job for the summer, he could deal with 27-year-old, going-through-a-divorce Clint.

When he walked into the coffee shop, he found Coulson already sitting at the table they had agreed on with two cups of coffee. As Clint made his way to the table, Coulson caught sight of him and grinned, standing and holding his hand out. Clint shook it a bit awkwardly. He wasn’t a formal guy, but he knew Coulson could be.

“It’s good to see you again, man. It’s been a minute.” Clint said through a little laugh, and Coulson nodded.

“It has, hasn’t it? Last year at… some festival, was it?” Coulson asked, trying to recall the last time they had seen one another. Clint thought for a moment before he nodded.

“Yeah, I think so. Maybe last Warped Tour?” Though he couldn’t remember where it has been at, it sounded right.

“I appreciate you meeting with me.” It was almost always straight to business with Coulson, anything else could come later. “Did you have to come all the way up from Nashville?”

“Nah,” Clint shook his head, making a mental note to never say ‘nah’ in a not-an-interview again. “Moved to Brooklyn after Bobbi… moved to L.A.”

He decided to leave out that he left Nashville because no matter where he turned, there was something that reminded him of Bobbi around every corner. If ‘nah’ wasn’t a not-an-interview term, his post-divorce spiral into near insanity would probably be frowned upon, too.

“Oh, I’m glad you didn’t have to come too far, then. Since you’re here, I’m assuming you’re still interested in crewing a tour?”

“Depends on the fine print in the contract, Phil.” Clint answered with a little grin.

“Have you heard of the Renegades?” Coulson’s expression didn’t change when he asked, but Clint’s sure did. His eyebrows rose and he scoffed before leaning towards the table a little.

“Who hasn’t?” Clint answered without answering, but he was making a point. The Renegades had gone from this little band Tony Stark was involved in to one of the biggest rock groups of the decade. They’d hit a rough patch recently, though, and hadn’t released any music in a while. He’d have had to have been living under a rock to not know about them.

“What do you _think_ you know about them?” Coulson stayed steady. He was clearly trying to read into Clint’s reaction, find a reason to either make or break this deal.

So, Clint shrugged.

“I don’t know anything about them, not really. I know what the media has been saying and I know who the members are publicly, but I don’t know them so I can’t pass judgement.”

Any concern that he wasn’t answering correctly immediately washed away when stone-face Coulson grinned at him.

“Job’s yours, if you want it. No catches or fine print.” He says, pulling a folder out of his briefcase and holding it out for Clint. “Contract and the breakdown on the tour. There’s also paperwork tackling the potential to bring you in permanently based on how this tour goes over, because I don’t doubt for a second that you’ll fit in with my guys.”

“Really?” Clint was a little skeptical on that as he took the folder and flipped it open. “You honestly think I’m gonna fit in with Tony freakin’ Stark?”

“I thought you just said you didn’t pass judgement on people you don’t know?” Coulson asked, though he was still smiling, so Clint didn’t think he’d blown it yet.

“Not on them, this is more on me. I mean, he’s a billionaire’s kid, he grew up rich. What could he possibly have in common with me?” Clint asked, but Coulson just kept on smiling at him.

“Yeah, you’re gonna fit in with everyone just fine.”

\---

Clint eventually got around to reading and agreeing to everything listed in the offer from Coulson, even though it was painstakingly boring.

He’d been picked up to bass tech during the Renegades performances, though there was the possibility of movement and other responsibilities as they arise on a show-by-show basis. He’d done this for years; Clint knew the drill and honestly just appreciated being offered a specific role.

The position with the Renegades was the first time he felt like there was solid ground under him since Bobbi left. And God, he knew that was corny.

\---

A month after meeting up with Coulson, he found himself in Manhattan to meet Renegades and the rest of their crew before tour kicked off a few days later. And honestly? Clint was terrified of not making a good first impression.

Bleeding Edge was a bar in Hell’s Kitchen owned by Tony Stark. It had opened years ago, back when Tony was known for partying. It’d started out as a night club, but over the last few years, had turned into a laid-back neighborhood bar. As Tony mellowed out, so did the bar.

Still, when Clint got to the front door, there was a bouncer with a clipboard who asked him for his name.

Inside, there were people everywhere. Before he was forced to fumble through introducing himself to everyone, Coulson was rushing toward him. The sight was a bit jarring – Coulson was in jeans and a button down, no suit in sight. Not only that, but he was /smiling/.

“Hey, man.” Clint smiled back, holding his hand out to shake Coulson’s. He was a little thrown when Coulson took it and pulled him into a one-armed hug instead.

“I’m glad you decided to take us up on the offer,” Phil said when they let go, moving his hand to clap Clint’s shoulder before he nodded farther into the room. “Come on, I’ll introduce you to the guys, they’re scattered around.”

Dispersed around the room were a handful of small groups, making them a smaller crew than he worked with for any of Bobbi’s tours, which seemed odd. Clint didn’t think about it too hard as Coulson led him towards Tony Stark.

Everyone knew the about Stark family. Their name was on the side of the tallest building in Manhattan. Howard Stark had made a fortune during the Cold War, working on weapons development and protection options for the U.S. military, which lead to weapons contract for every war since. It wasn’t until recently that Tony had ceased weapons production and moved on to making tech and things that help former soldiers return to civilian life, like smart prosthetics.

Tony had been finishing up a PhD at MIT while making quite the name for himself as an Upper West Side party boy before he suddenly dropped off the grid for a few years. When he returned to the spotlight, it was in the Renegades.

He had a few years on his bandmates, a few light gray streaks in his messy black hair, but it somehow made him look more badass. He was wearing an ACDC t-shirt, a gray blazer, a pair of formfitting jeans and chucks and, even though it was almost identical to the outfit Clint was wearing, Tony managed to make it look well put together and thought out.

Beside Stark stood a tall red head, who Clint knew from tabloids and news segments to be Pepper. She had her hand on Tony’s shoulder while they chatted with the others in their group, making them look effortlessly in love.

Again, because of Tony’s inherited fame before the band, most of the general public knew about Tony’s long-suffering pining after his assistant-turned-boss, before he gave up the family business to focus on the band full-time.

The couple were talking to three people. Oldest of the group had to be around Tony’s age, if the silver curls in his hair had any truth to them. Beside him as the girl, wearing a maroon dress with dark wavy hair parted to one side. The other side of her hair was shaved to reveal an impressive number of ear piercings. The boy beside her had emerald colored hair, though he carried the demeanor of a person who would rather the floor swallow him whole than have all eyes on him.

As Clint and Coulson approached, their conversation lulled and they turned their attention to Clint.

In that moment, Clint wished the floor would open and eat him whole.

“Is this the newbie?” Tony asked immediately, stepping away from Pepper toward Clint. He didn’t wait for Coulson’s answer before he shoved his hand out to Clint and gave him a wide grin. “Tony Stark. You have to be the new guy. Coulson hasn’t shut up about you since you agreed to meet with him. We’re glad you could join.”

“Uh, it’s no problem. Thanks for letting him reach out.” Clint shrugged, shaking Tony’s hand firmly, before he gave a nod to the others. “Clint Barton.” He announced.

His initial observation about the redhead with Tony was confirmed when she introduced herself.

“Since Tony seems to have forgotten his manners,” She aimed playfully narrowed eyes at Tony, who simply grinned in response. “I’m Pepper, Tony’s fiancé.” She explained with an offered handshake. “These are three of our friends, who will also be touring with you guys.”

The older guy with curls extended his hand first, a bit awkwardly. “Bruce. I’m Tony’s drum tech.” He offered, quietly.

“And professional babysitter.” Pepper added, which made Bruce laugh as Tony pouted.

“I’m Wanda.” The girl spoke with the smallest hint of a Russian accent and gave him a small smile. “I’ll be working the merch table.”

Clint grinned, happy to finally find someone who didn’t want a formal handshake and raised his first for a bump. She grinned back at him and knocked their knuckles together. “Yeah, we’re gonna be friends.” He earned a laugh for his comment, which he felt pretty proud of.

“My friends call me Vision,” the green haired guy said, “because I’m the photographer.” He held his hand out for a handshake before he glanced at Wanda and balled it into a fist, which made Clint smile. They bumped their fists together and then Clint nodded.

“Tony, Pepper, Bruce, Wanda, Vision. Got it. Easy enough, so far.” He turned to look at Coulson, only to find him long gone. The others laughed softly, before Wanda took his hand without hesitation.

“I will introduce you to the others, come along.” She didn’t give him a choice before she pulled him after her.

They stopped at a group of three at a table near the bar. On one side, Steve Rogers sat with a brunette woman on his lap. Her arm was wrapped around his shoulders, which looked even broader in person, toying lightly with his hair as they chatted with the woman across the table from them. She had short black pulled back into a tight bun, looking all business despite the light smile on her face.

When they reached the table, Wanda cleared her throat to get their attention. “Everyone, this is Clint.” She introduced, which made him duck his head and blush a little shyly.

“Uh, Coulson asked me to hit the road with you guys, so… here I am.” He offered, lamely, in explanation. Nobody spoke for a few seconds, which made him anxious, so he brought a hand up to rub the back of his neck.

Steve introduced himself after a pause that was probably only a few seconds but felt like a lifetime and gave Clint a wide, genuine smile.

“We appreciate you coming along on the tour with us, Clint. Really.” He paused for another few beats, then the brunette on his lap smacked his chest and gave him a look, which made him frown. “I thought this was one of the things I wasn’t supposed to do!”

She rolled her eyes in turn, before shifting her gaze to Clint and smiling at him, just as genuinely as Steve had. “I’m Peggy and, though I’m currently Steve’s wife, that is subject to change.” She teased, giving Steve a smile before tugging at a chain around his neck. She balled her fist around what turned out to be dog tags on the end of the chain to tug him in for a kiss.

Apparently, watching public displays of affection made the Bobbi-ache that had _just_ started to leave his chest flair up.

The woman across the table must have either somehow noticed the signs of Clint’s impending Bobbi-related breakdown – or she was uncomfortable herself – because she was quick to turn attention to her.

“Maria, but you can call me Hill. Everyone else does.” She shrugged indifferently. “I’m their guitar tech, so we’ll be working pretty closely together. You are teching for Nat, right? Because good luck with that.”

Clint’s mind took a second to catch up, lost in his almost-breakdown, before he nodded. “Yeah, bass. Is she really that much of a hard ass?” He asked with a little smile, which earned all attention back on him.

“No,” Steve said with a laugh, while the three women around them said, “Yes.”

That was followed with a beat of a weird tension, with everyone looking back and forth between one another, seeming surprised.

“Well. That’s reassuring.” He laughed at himself, which seemed to break the tension as they all laughed with him.

He wasn’t about to brag or anything, but Clint had only been in the bar for approximately 15 minutes and had already successfully made four of the eight he met laugh and successfully side-stepped a Bobbi-ache-breakdown. He was starting to feel like he might not be making a complete ass out of himself straight off the bat.

“I heard my name.” A red head popped up behind Steve and Peggy. “Why did I hear my name?” She leaned closer to Steve as she spoke, like they were having a secret conversation despite keeping their volume the same level for everyone to hear.

So that was Natasha Romanov, then.

“Clint’s your new bass tech.” Steve smiled up at her and nodded with his chin in Clint’s direction. When her eyes fell on him, Clint waved at her. “He asked if you were a hard ass.” Steve ratted him out.

Before Clint could defend himself, Natasha smiled at him.

“I like him.” She said, matter-of-factly.

“I don’t know, guys, she doesn’t seem like a hard ass to me.” Clint decided to bring Wanda, Hill and Peggy down with him. Steve grinned even wider and Natasha laughed.

Not that anyone, especially not Clint, was keeping score, but Clint was totally killing the ‘make the new crew laugh’ game.

“Oh yeah. I really like him. But if you fuck up my bass, I’ll end you.” Natasha said, keeping her sweet and leveled tone, but the mood noticeably shifted. Clint didn’t want to think about it too hard, so he just smiled at her.

“Cross my heart. I know what I’m doing. Everyone I’m used to tech-ing for has been rough on their instruments. I can deal with taking care of an instrument for once.”

Then Natasha nodded her chin towards the balcony. “C’mon, I’ll introduce you to James. He’s outside with Sam, so I was heading out anyway. You wanna come, Wanda?”

Wanda shrugged. “No, I should get back to Vision before he gets bored and tries to leave early.” She gave Clint’s shoulder a playful punch before she wandered back off to where they had left Vision with Pepper and Tony.

Natasha started moving before Clint did, so he had to jog a bit to catch up with her.

“Alright, I wanted to be the one to do this because there’s a disclaimer on this one,” She warned before they stepped out the doors onto an outback balcony. Her eyes held the same fire they had when she talked about ending him, so he paid close attention to her next words. “James is going through a lot right now. He’s been through hell and back, so don’t do anything to get him worked up or you’ll have face not only him, but me, Steve, Tony and pretty much everyone else here. Understood?”

“Yes ma’am.” Clint agreed quickly, though he was curious what could be going on that warranted a threatening like that. Natasha narrowed her eyes before she continued.

“And don’t think that I’m saying this because he’s incapable of fending for himself or something. He’s just been through enough and doesn’t need to be through anything else like that ever again. Don’t get the impression that he’s fragile, because he’s one of the strongest mother fuckers you’ll ever meet.”

Then, she pushed the door open and nodded for him to step out, effectively ending the conversation there.

As Natasha had told him, there were two men out on the balcony. A tall and lean, dark skinned guy was leaning on the railing, looking out into the driveway. The other was sitting on the railing, facing them; Clint recognized him immediately by his metal prosthetic, but he looked thinner and scruffier than he’d ever appeared in front of press.

Bucky was smoking, but took a quick drag and tossed the cigarette off the balcony when he caught sight of Natasha. She sighed heavily, and Bucky smiled then blew the smoke out of his nose.

“I thought you weren’t smoking anymore.” It was more of a statement than a question, and the way she crossed her arms over her chest expressed that Natasha was not as amused as Bucky was.

“Vices.” He replied, waving her off, before his eyes settled on Clint behind her. He raised an eyebrow, inspecting him, before turning back to Natasha.

“Right. This is Clint.” She rolled her eyes, then nodded over her shoulder to Clint. He raised his hand in a wave and the man beside Bucky took a step forward. “Clint, this is Sam.”

“Sam Wilson. I usually tech for ‘Tasha, but my bands opening this tour so I can’t.” He said, holding one of his hands out. Clint took it and let Sam pull him into his chest, patting his back before they let go of one another. “Good luck, buddy. She’s a handful.”

“Only for you.” Natasha winked, tapping at Bucky’s pocket. Bucky tipped his head looking at her, until he sighed and dug around in his pocket, handing over a pack of cigarettes. In a sudden and swift movement, Natasha had moved to the other side of the balcony and had a lit cigarette hanging from her lips.

“Hey!” Bucky protested, hopping down from the railing and chasing after her, though he stopped a few steps away from her. “You could have just asked if you wanted one. You giving ‘em back to me, or do I gotta buy new ones now?”

She tossed the pack back to him and he grinned before stuffing the back into his pocket, but she jutted her chin at Clint.

“Stop being a dick and introduce yourself already, James.” She scolded around the cigarette. James spun to face him, a sheepish look on his face, before he rubbed the back of his neck with his metal hand.

“Hey.” He mumbled, offering out his right hand in a fist. “I’m Bucky, thanks for coming along on the tour. It means a lot that you’re helping out. I really appreciate you hopping on so last minute like this.”

“No problem, man, really.” Clint said, softly, knocking their fists together before Natasha punched Bucky’s shoulder.

“Stop blaming yourself.” She said, before tugging him close and kissing his hair. His neck and cheeks turned pink and he shoved away from Natasha, mumbling something under his breath that made her laugh softly. “Alright, alright, I’ll stop. Now come inside before Steve comes out and realizes that you don’t just smell like smoke because of me.”

“Yeah, I’ll be in in a minute, go ahead without me.” Bucky answered. Natasha narrowed her eyes at him for a moment, before she sighed and grabbed Sam’s hand. They walked past him, heading inside, so Clint took a few steps towards Bucky slowly.

“Is it okay if I stay out here with you for another minute?” Clint asked.

Bucky glanced over his shoulder before he shrugged. “As long as you don’t try to steal my cigarettes, go crazy.”

“Nah, I kicked the habit a few years ago. Tryin’ to stay clean.” Clint answered, which made Bucky smile.

“Yeah, I was too.” He mumbled, then tipped his head at Clint. “So, what? Trying to gauge the situation? Figure out exactly how fucked up everything is, or if the tabloids are exaggerating?”

Clint let out a laugh and shook his head. “My ex was kind of a big deal. Tabloids used to run stories about us all the time that were bullshit. I don’t trust anything they say.”

“Really?” Bucky looked him up and down, raising his eyebrow. He seemed to consider him for a moment before he cracked a little, sad smile. “But you still saw the stories.”

“I think I’d have to have lived under a rock to miss them,” Clint countered, which made Bucky laugh. “If it makes you feel any better, I kinda holed myself after me and Bobbi broke up, so I haven’t seen any news about anything in a few months.”

Bucky didn’t react for a moment, but then he was throwing his arm around Clint’s shoulders and leading him back inside of the bar. “That didn’t make me feel any better. But we’re going to go inside and I’m going to get you a drink and we’re going to toast to moving on.”

“You’re not one of those ‘new beginnings’ people, are you?” Clint asked, cringing a little through a smile.

Bucky patted his shoulder with a roll of his eyes. “You’d think, after everything. But no. I’m more of an… onward and upwards kinda person. Beginnings are boring. The thick of the plot is where the fun is.”

At the bar, Bucky got them each a shot of whiskey. Tony caught sight of them and ordered a round of shots for everyone, though opted for a glass of water himself.

As Clint was putting his glass down, he caught Bucky looking his way and gave him a little smile. Bucky nodded back, before turning into a conversation with Steve and Peggy.


	2. Trust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter touches on past trauma and drug abuse. Very briefly, but the topics are addressed.

Behind the stage, Bucky was glad it was too dark for anyone to see him.

He was chewing a sore into the inside of his cheek, twisting his fingers and crackling his knuckles repeatedly. He was pretty sure he was sweating, too.

He hadn’t even taken the stage yet, why was he so sweaty?

The music that had been playing in the venue between sets dipped out, and the little monitor lights that had been on dulled. A wash of silence as quick as a breath rippled through the room and…

Fuck, was he nervous.

As soon as the silence came, it was gone, replaced by echoing screams. Even with his in-ears in, he could hear it plain as day.

Then a hand was on the middle of his back, cueing him to take the stage.

He jumped up and down a few times, before cracking his neck and rushing out in front of the crowd. Steve was already checking his mic stand and foot pedals. Tony was standing on his stool, hamming it up for the crowd, like they hadn’t missed a beat. Bucky took his guitar from Hill, slipping the strap over his shoulder so it rested above his prosthetic in a practiced motion. Natasha took the stage a beat after him. Once she was ready, Steve cleared his throat before stepping up to the microphone again.

“It’s been a minute,” He grinned as the screaming got louder. “Let’s do it already!”

And just like that, everything else was gone. There was nothing else but the music, just like it had always been.

He could do this.

\---

Two songs in, they all needed a break for a minute. It had been more than a year since they played on stage like this, and no amount of band rehearsal could prepare anyone for actual live performances.

Bruce brought Tony a towel as Steve cracked open a bottle of water. Natasha glanced over at Bucky and he smiled at her before stepping up to his microphone.

“How’s everybody feeling tonight?” He asked and laughed a little as the room erupted into screams. “It was a little rude of us to just come out here without introducing ourselves like that, wasn’t it?” He asked, and there were more screams.

“Speak for yourself, Barnes. I’m pretty recognizable.” Tony said, noticeably breathless, into his mic. Bucky glanced back at him and couldn’t help but laugh.

“I’m speaking right now so you can catch your breath, old man.” Bucky teased, and the crowd laughed loudly as Tony pretended to be offended before opening a water bottle of his own. “Anyway. Back to the people who are really important here,” He turned his attention back to the crowd. “As you may, or may not know, we’re the Renegades. I’m Bucky, and these are my friends, Tony, Steve and Nat.”

“Hi guys!” Natasha said, winking at the crowd as they cheer back at her.

“We took some much-needed time off, but now we’re back. And I just wanted to thank you guys for waiting for us to get our shit together.” Bucky said, earnestly. He wasn’t sure what they did to deserve fans like the ones they had, but they were tried and true and they owed them everything.

“Thanks for waiting while Bucky got his shit together.” Tony corrected him. Steve’s eyes immediately shot to Bucky, who should have expected the jab.

“He has a point. I was the one who didn’t have my shit together. But I’d like to think it’s a little more together now than it used to be. So thanks for still being here for us.” Bucky told Steve, before turning back to the crowd.

Tony tapped his cymbals lightly, indicating that he was ready to go for the next song. A quick glance at Steve and Natasha confirmed everyone was ready to move on, so Bucky started strumming his guitar.

“Sing along if you know this one.”

\---

15 songs and two encores later, the first show on the tour was over.

Bucky was dripping in sweat, his feet and knees were killing him, his fingers felt raw, but it was nice. He couldn’t remember the last time he smiled so much.

Hill had taken his guitar from him just in time for Steve to leap on his back.

“That was amazing!” Steve cheered excitedly, and Bucky found a weird comfort in the fact that Steve was just as sweaty as he was.

“God, please don’t stand too close to one another. You smell lethal separately right now, we’ll wipe the whole city out if we put you all together.” Natasha grumbled, shoving past them and pinching her nose as she handed her bass off to Clint

Bucky laughed and followed after her toward the green room.

“I didn’t cross a line out there, did I?” Tony asked, wiping a towel over his face. Steve glanced at Bucky nervously again, before Bucky sighed.

“C’mon, guys, we’re not walking on eggshells around me, remember?” He asked, rolling his eyes. “It was fine. I’d have gone full diva and walked off-stage if I was pissed.” Bucky teased, grabbing a water bottle from the green room fridge and taking a long swig.

“And you guys say I’m the diva.” Tony teased back, making Steve snort.

Then Peggy was rushing into the room and tossing her arms around Steve’s neck. “You did it!” She cheered, then they were kissing.

It wasn’t long before Pepper was also in the room, attached to Tony, and Sam was making his way to Natasha, and Bucky was…

Well, Bucky wasn’t going to sit around and watch everyone make out with their partners, that’s for sure.

“I’m gonna help break down.” He announced and was not surprised when no one reacted.

Bucky helped the crew pack instruments away and break down parts of the stage they traveled with, then helped load things from the venue into their travel van. Once they were done, everyone else was ready to head back to the hotel they were staying in for the night.

Once they got to the hotel, he took a scalding hot shower to wash the sweat and grime off himself. After drying himself off, he put on a pair of sweatpants.

His hair was only half towel dried when someone knocked at his door.

“Hey, we’re going to—oh.” The non-greeting came from Clint, who seemed surprised.

“We’re going to what?” Bucky asked with a little smile after Clint was silent for a few beats too long.

“Huh?” Clint asked, blinking like he wasn’t the one who knocked on Bucky’s door, before he came to. “Oh! Right. A few of us are going to get drinks to celebrate a successful first show. You… look like you’re ready for bed, but you’re welcome to come if you want.”

Bucky weighed the offer. He’d love to celebrate the first show being a success, but he knew it probably wasn’t a good idea. People knew his reputation, and if he was to hit a bar after a show, it was a recipe for disaster.

“Uh, raincheck?” Bucky asked after a minute. “My arms acting up, been a while since I put it to work like that.” The lie came easy, it was his go-to with new people who didn’t understand the mechanics of his arm. What didn’t come easy was the knot in his gut at the look of disappointment that flashed across Clint’s face for a split second.

“Right, no, that’s cool. Rest up, don’t wanna risk the next show. Gotta keep us all employed. Take care of yourself, we’ll see you tomorrow.” Clint rambled quickly, before hurrying down the hallway to join some of the crew who were waiting by the elevators.

Bucky closed the door once Clint was out of view and sighed, tossing his towel over the chair before jumping face-first onto the bed. He stayed like that for a few minutes, fighting the impulse to put on jeans and run after Clint and the rest of the crew to go out. The thought sounded like fun at first, but then he remembered he wasn’t wearing a shirt and going out would require more than just slipping out of his sweats and into jeans.

Realizing he hadn’t put a shirt on provided an explanation about why Clint had reacted so weirdly when Bucky opened the door. He was probably surprised by the scarring along Bucky’s chest and abdomen, especially where the prosthetic met skin. Seeing the prosthetic was one thing, and while Clint had seemed cool with it, he hadn’t exactly asked to see the mess it left on his body. It was hard to prepare someone for that kind of thing.

But the more Bucky thought about it, the less Clint had seemed freaked out. He seemed like he was caught off guard. Distracted.

Not fully understanding why he was so caught up on what had happened, he rolled onto his back and googled Clint’s name. When they’d first met, Clint had mentioned a having an ex who was a pretty big deal to Bucky, but never elaborated on that any of the times they’d spoken since.

What he found was a surprise, and shit if Clint wasn’t telling the truth.

According to Google, Clint had been married to Bobbi Morse.

Bobbi was a big shot in the indie scene. She had recently started to cross genres into pop but had made a mainstream name for herself without having to change her sound. Some of the articles suggested the pair had been together for at least 6 years, before suddenly calling it quits at the beginning of the year.

Bucky couldn’t help but get sucked into a few of the articles; reading about how Clint not only crewed her performances, but also helped her write and produce on occasion. He hadn’t known Clint was interested in writing or producing. He didn’t really know anything about Clint.

When he came across an article that claimed Clint was the reason for the divorce, he forced himself to close the browser on his phone. It wasn’t fair of him to ask people not to judge him by what was written about him if he was just going to do the same thing to other people.

As the fact that Clint had been married to Bobbi Morse settled over him, he realized he was strangely disappointed. That meant Clint was into women, and probably not into dudes, so he probably hadn’t been distracted when Bucky answered the door shirtless.

He still didn’t get why he cared so much.

\---

Post-show sleeps were always the best, especially after a great show like the one they’d put on earlier.

Except, apparently that wasn’t true anymore.

Bucky lurched awake in a cold sweat, hair sticking to his face, pillows and sheets soaked. He wasn’t entirely sure how he was even hydrated enough to still be sweating like he was.

Stumbling his way to the bathroom, Bucky flipped on the lights and turned the sink on. He hovered over it for a moment, breathlessly, before splashing cold water onto his face to try to wake himself up more and figure out what was going on.

He glanced at himself in the mirror and frowned when he saw how dark the circles under his eyes were. They’d be noticeable at the show tomorrow, if he didn’t get some rest soon.

Bucky sat on the ledge of the bathtub, running through what could have woke him like. When he couldn’t come up with anything after a while, he figured that not remember whatever nightmare had startled him was probably for the best and got back in bed.

This time, when he closed his eyes, it was clear as day.

The caves. The explosions. The dust in his eyes. The burning and stabbing pain in his arm.

He touched the cool plates where metal covered his shoulder and rubbed over it, pretending like it did anything to soothe the phantom pain.

It took another few hours, but he managed to drift off to sleep.

The next time he opened his eyes, Steve was standing at the foot of his bed.

“What?” Bucky asked, his voice sounding strained as he rolled away from Steve and pulled the blankets over his shoulder.

“Did you go out last night?” Steve asked. Bucky rolled his eyes before glancing over his shoulder.

“We talked about this. You said you trusted me.”

Steve got defensive. “I do.”

“Are you sure about that?” Bucky asked, before letting out a huff and shoving the blankets off himself to sit up in bed and take Steve on. “Cause when Tony poked fun at what happened, you looked like you were scared I was gonna flip shit on stage. And now that I’m tired after a show, you’re accusing me of going out last night.”

“You still haven’t answered the question.” Steve said, after pausing for a brief moment.

“Because you’re not asking the real question you want to ask.” Bucky said, matter-of-factly.

“I just want to know—”

Bucky cut Steve off. “You want to know if I got high last night after the show.”

A heavy silence weighed between them, before Steve sighed.

“I’m supposed to check on you. Your sponsor said…”

“I’m sure Matt didn’t tell you to accuse me of getting high the first night of tour. I’m positive of it, actually.” Bucky cut in again, so Steve looked at him for a long moment before holding his hands up in defeat. “I didn’t go out last night. I had a nightmare so I didn’t sleep well. And, for the record, I still have 25 minutes before my alarm was set to go off.”

Steve glanced at the clock before he gave a little shrug. “I just knew they were asking you to go out last night and I worried.”

“And I love you for worrying. I do. But I’m okay. If anything happens, I swear to you that I will talk to you and Matt before I do anything else. But right now? I’m fine. Night one was great. I didn’t need to get high.” Bucky explained. Steve gave him a little nod.

“I’m sorry.” He apologized, sounding like he really meant it. Bucky nodded his forgiveness and kicked his feet over the edge of the bed as Steve continued talking. “Want to talk about the nightmare?”

“Just Afghanistan. Woke up sweaty and couldn’t breathe and my arm was killing me. Nothing else to say about it.”

Bucky took that opportunity to get dressed and brush his teeth, before he stood by his door and motioned for Steve to follow him.

“Might as well go get breakfast since we’re up.” He said, making Steve smile and follow him down to the lobby for the complimentary breakfast buffet.

When they got downstairs, the room was mostly empty. It wasn’t a busy tourism season, so there weren’t a lot of guests in the hotel. However, Bucky was surprised to see Clint sitting at a table, resting his head on his arms that were folded on the table before him.

“I’m gonna load up, you check on Clint?” Steve suggested once he realized where Bucky was looking, before hitting the buffet.

Before walking to the table Clint was at, Bucky poured some black coffee into a cup. He carried it to the table, setting it in front of Clint. It took a whole three seconds before Clint was lifting his head to look at the coffee cup. He stared at it for a moment, confused, before he glanced up at Bucky and smiled in appreciation, then took a sip.

“Rough night?” Bucky asked, a bit amused and kind of relieved he hadn’t gone out if this was the result. Clint took another sip of coffee before shaking his head, then sipped the coffee again before actually answering.

“Nah, Hill’s a hard ass and had us back at the hotel before 1:30. I just can’t function without coffee. Made it all the way down here, cause the kind in the room is shit, but. Like I said. I can’t function without coffee, so I ended up over here instead.” He explained, making Bucky laugh and shake his head a little.

“Well, now you’ve got some coffee in you. Let’s get some food in, too, before we hit the road.” He said, patting Clint’s arm. Clint stood and followed him to the buffet, still nursing his cup of coffee.


	3. Colors

After 3 weeks of shows in different cities every night, they had a long weekend off. Tony and Steve had flown back to New York to see Peggy and Pepper. The rest of the crew had disbursed to enjoy their down time with friends, family, or just decompress from being cooped up with one another for so long.

Clint didn’t have anywhere to go in particular, though. He could have gone back to New York, too, probably. Kate was taking care of Lucky at his place while he was on tour. Instead, he called the hotel they’d be staying in later this week after the next show and asked to move up his reservation.

That’s when he learned that Bucky had done the same thing.

After he checked in, he made his way down to the room the front desk had told him was Bucky’s and knocked.

It felt a lot like that first night, and he was worried Bucky would turn him down again. But another part of him hoped the few conversations they had since then had built a little trust between the two of them.

Bucky seemed genuinely surprised when he opened the door. “Oh, hey.”

“Hey.” Clint grinned. “I see you’re dressed this time.”

Which probably wasn’t a good thing to say, because it gave away that he /noticed/ that Bucky wasn’t wearing a shirt last time he had knocked for him. Hopefully, it didn’t give away that he’d thought about it quite often.

“Yeah, just got in about 20 minutes ago. What are you doing here?” Bucky asked, stepping side to let Clint into the room.

“Didn’t want to go back to New York, so. I just headed here.” Clint explained, and Bucky nodded.

“Same. I used to take the time to explore the cities we visited when we first started touring, but then…” He trailed off, shaking his head and giving Clint a tight smile. “Figured I could try to do some of that during these couple days. Get used to the hours, seeing the sights before shows. Want to join me?”

Clint grinned again, nodding. “Sure, any idea where you want to go first?”

“I just planned on walking around today. Seeing what we can see. I was going to look up landmarks for tomorrow’s adventure, but just… seeing what the locals see for today, if that’s cool with you?” Bucky shrugged.

“Let’s do it!”

That’s how they ended up at a park, about a mile away from the hotel. There was a lake in the center, and they climbed a few rocks to sit on and look over the water. They’d been there for about 20 minutes, quietly watching the water.

“It’s so quiet.” Bucky mumbled, pulling his knees up to his chest. “It’s almost uncomfortable how open the area is, but it’s still so quiet. I can’t decide if I like it or not.”

“I don’t usually like the quiet, but this is nice.” Clint nodded, picking at a fray from one of the holes in his jeans.

A few more beats of comfortable silence fell over them before Bucky turned to watch Clint.

“Why don’t you usually like the quiet?” He asked, curiously.

Clint thought about how to explain for a second, before he reached up and turned his left hearing aid off, then took it out and held it out to Bucky. It looked like their in-ear monitors they wore during the shows, except it was colored to match Clint’s skin tone. He put it back in his ear after a moment and turned it back on, not wanting to speak and risk being too loud in the quiet park.

“I’m almost completely deaf without these. I can only hear if you’re basically talking into my ear, and even that’s muddled and hard to understand.” He shrugged, picking at the hole again, nervously. “Quiet usually means my aids are broken. Didn’t always have the money to fix ‘em growing up.”

Bucky looked away when Clint stopped talking then. Clint briefly wondered if he’d said too much, but then Bucky rubbed the back of his neck and sighed.

“Since we’re sharing, I think I don’t know how to handle the quiet because it reminds me of Afghanistan.” He said. Clint turned to look at him, so Bucky shrugged. “Quiet meant trouble. If there were no people around making noise, there was usually an IED hidden somewhere nearby just waiting for you to hit the right pressure plate or trip the wire.” Bucky’s hand rubbed over his metal wrist, and he didn’t say anything else for a minute. Clint let him have his silence, turning to watch the water. “I think it’s why I like shows so much, you know? Crowds aren’t great, I get anxious about being around that many people sometimes. But shows are loud. Safe.”

Clint couldn’t help but smile at Bucky and give a slight nod in agreement.

He wondered if he should give Bucky more details about his own struggles with quiet and silence, or if he should just let the conversation end there. After all, Bucky was opening up to him. He knew there was more to it. He would probably never get all of the stories from Bucky’s time in the Army. Clint wasn’t even sure Bucky had really talked a lot about the war with Natasha. It seemed to be something Steve and Bucky kept to themselves.

He decided to let Bucky’s musings end the conversation, though. There was a lot of drama behind his hearing issues, and he didn’t want to pile that on Bucky right now, especially in case he had a hard time dealing with the things he’d gone through in the Army.

They fell back into silence for a while. When Clint couldn’t take it anymore, he stood and stretched until his back cracked.

“I’ve had my fill of quiet. I’m going to go grab something to eat from the food truck down the street, do you want anything?” He asked. Bucky looked up at him, before he stood and brushed his pants off.

“I’ll come with you. Being alone in the quiet is worse than being with someone else.”

Bucky started climbing down off the rock they’d been sitting on, but Clint couldn’t help but think about that. Bucky had a point. If he’d been alone, Clint would have never spent almost a half hour in the quiet park.

“You comin’ or what?” Bucky called, snapping Clint out of his thoughts. He rolled his eyes and climbed off the rock, following Bucky toward the food truck. “What’re you gonna get?”

“I dunno yet, but I hope they have pierogis.”

\---

After eating and exploring a bit more of the city, they turned back for the hotel as it started to get dark outside.

“This was nice. Thanks for coming out with me today, Barton.” Bucky said, nudging Clint’s arm and making him laugh.

“It was nice, wasn’t it? I guess you’re not terrible company.” Clint agreed, teasingly, which made Bucky roll his eyes.

“Tomorrow, we’ll head downtown?” Bucky asked and Clint nodded. “I never thought to ask, have you ever been here before?”

“I mean, I’ve crewed a show or two here. But never explored. Bobbi was more likely to hole up in the room and write when we were on tour.” He explained, shrugging. “I didn’t mind sitting around listening to her work songs out most of the time. It was nice, most of the time.”

“God, I couldn’t imagine sitting around in a hotel room with Brock.” Bucky mumbled under his breath, shaking his head. “Can I be honest about something?”

“Always.” Clint nodded, kicking a rock in his path.

“It’s wild to me that you and Bobbi were together for so long and then it just ended and you’re both moving on.” He said, and Clint bit at the inside of his cheek.

The Bobbi-ache had eased up a lot, the longer he stayed on the road, but that felt like a pin to the bubble he’d built around himself. He let Bucky’s comment sit for a moment, before he sighed.

“I mean, when it worked, we were great together. But we’d get into fights over stupid shit. And we handled it too differently to make it work. I tend to collapse in on myself, where Bobbi lashes out. So we’d fight, I’d shut down, she’d freak out and then we wouldn’t talk for a few days. After a while, you have to take a step back and realize that, no matter how much you might love one another, it’s just not healthy anymore.” Clint explained, biting into his cheek again as soon as he finished talking to try to distract himself.

“That’s part of my problem. I have trouble knowing when to say enough is enough.” Bucky said. Clint tipped his head, but didn’t ask, not wanting to push Bucky if he didn’t want to share. “Me and Brock, we started out okay. Not great, but. It was fun. And then we let it get away from us, and I was high most of the time so I didn’t even care how terrible of a person he was. When it started interfering with the band and they realized how bad I’d gotten… Let’s just say it was a nightmare trying to put the pieces back together.”

They didn’t say anything else until they were back inside the hotel. Clint had a rough idea about Bucky’s addiction troubles and relationship issues, but he hadn’t known any actual details about them. He didn’t know how comfortable Bucky was with sharing, so he was careful and thought out how he wanted to respond before he mentioned anything.

On the elevator heading to their floor, Clint finally asked, “Do you regret being with him?”

“No.” Bucky answered, without hesitation. “It probably sounds crazy, because of how fucked up our relationship was, but I don’t regret it. I thought I loved him. I thought he loved me. We had our moments that weren’t completely terrible. But I’ll never let anyone treat me the way he did again. I learned that I do have limits to how far I can be pushed before I start swinging back.”

Clint let the words weigh between them as they walked off the elevator. He didn’t necessarily know how to respond, or if a response was even called for.

He dropped Bucky off with a mumbled goodnight and vague plans for breakfast in the morning, then went back to his room. He showered, changed into pajamas, and then found himself googling Bucky and Brock’s relationship.

_“Photos appear to show Renegade’s Bucky Barnes doing drugs with boyfriend at a club in Brooklyn.”_

_“Bucky Barnes and boyfriend fight outside night club.”_

_“Renegade’s Barnes gets into bar fight with boyfriend.”_

Just reading the headlines was enough information for him.

With a heavy sigh, he exited out of the search and let his phone down on his chest. The two of them were a good pair; both fucked up and miserable but trying to make the best of a shit situation.

\---

The next morning, they met for breakfast like they had planned, and then hit the city. Bucky had taken an apple with him for their venture, and Clint was sitting at the extra coffee he’d grabbed as they left.

“It’s beautiful out today.” Bucky mumbled after a while, tossing the core to his apple into the nearest garbage can. “Sucks that everyone else isn’t here, we could play soccer or something.” He said. Clint hummed, because that wasn’t really the kind of thing that interested him, which seemed to freak Bucky out. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you’re here.”

“I get what you meant, Buck. Just not big in sports, I guess.”

Bucky visibly relaxed at that. “Oh. Good. Sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize.” Clint said, then waited a moment before speaking again. “You okay? You're not usually this nervous.”

Bucky sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, looking away from Clint as he answered. “Didn’t sleep well. It’s not uncommon, but last night was… different.”

Clint nodded for a moment, because he could also have some pretty gnarly nightmares. But then he worried that maybe being outside around people was too much for Bucky. “We could do something else, if you want. We don’t have to explore today.”

“No, I want to be outside.” Bucky said, firmly. “Fresh air is nice. It's nice to stretch my legs, get to know somewhere I've never been.” He gave Clint a tight smile that didn’t reach his eyes, and Clint nodded again.

A silence swept over them then that wasn’t entirely unwelcome, but it didn’t feel exactly natural. So Clint was glad when he looked up and saw something interesting across the street.

Without explaining, he reached out and grabbed Bucky’s hand, tugging him across the street. It was clear that a house or store had been there at one time but had been demolished. Instead of re-building another property, the city had turned it into a mosaic garden.

“Whoa.” Bucky mumbled, looking around before walking ahead of Clint through the garden. “This is so cool!”

Clint laughed and nodded, reaching out to run his fingers over the smooth tiles and harsh concrete that held them together. “It’s beautiful.” He agreed.

When Clint looked back at Bucky, he was standing beside a blue and purple butterfly mosaic. The sun was hitting off the tiles, reflecting the color on his face. Without saying anything, Clint took a picture on his phone, then walked over to Bucky and held the phone out to show him the picture. Bucky grinned and nudged Clint’s shoulder.

“Look at you, making me look photogenic.” He teased, before he tapped the phone. “Send that to me, it’s Instagram worthy.”

Clint smiled and sent him the photo, then continued to look his way around the mosaic garden.

It wasn’t too big, so they’d inspected the whole thing after a few more minutes, and continued their trek downtown. Clint caught sight of a coffee shop and made puppy dog eyes at Bucky, who laughed and nodded, pulling the door open to let Clint inside. He got a table while Clint ordered.

When Clint returned with a coffee for himself and an iced coffee for Bucky, he was surprised to see Bucky scrolling through pictures from the garden.

“Any of them turn out any good?” He asked.

Bucky smiled and shrugged, scrolling back a few pictures before holding the phone out for Clint.

It was of him from behind as he was looking at a wall of color in front of him. Because of the angle the picture was taken, there were light flares of purple, blue, orange and red all around Clint, who was wearing black jeans and a black t-shirt.

“How artsy of you, how many filters did that take?” He asked, and Bucky shook his head.

“None. Just the right moment.” He answered with a grin, taking his phone back. “Do you mind if I post it?”

Clint raised an eyebrow. “Why would I care?” He asked.

Bucky tapped behind his ears. “You can see your hearing aids.” He answered, before he shrugged. “People will be able to recognize it’s you, and I don’t want you getting attention you don’t want.”

“You can post it, I don’t mind.” Clint answered with a little smile and a roll of his eyes. Bucky tilted his head as if to challenge him, and Clint raised his eyebrow again. “Do you want me to say no?”

“No, I just… I want you to understand, is all. They’re going to assume we’re dating.” Bucky said. Clint laughed and shook his head, but Bucky’s expression didn’t change.

“You’re not serious? Just because of a picture?” He asked.

“Because we’re here together, while everyone else is home.” Bucky answered.

“How will they know that?”

“They know everything.” Bucky answered with a shrug. “Plus, everyone’s been posting pictures at home. It’s not unusual for me /not/ to post, so. It’ll get attention when I do. And I just want you to be prepared for people to ask you about dating me.”

Clint watched Bucky, who seemed like he was very purposefully not reacting to what he had said. So, Clint shrugged.

“That’s fine. I’ll just tell ‘em to mind their business.” Bucky frowned a little, so Clint shrugged. “I mean, I can tell ‘em we’re not dating, if that’s what you want. But it’s not like we owe them an explanation.”

Bucky was careful about his reaction again for a moment, and Clint started to panic that maybe he’d said the wrong thing. He picked at the label on his coffee cup nervously until Bucky let out a little huff of air and smiled.

“You’re unreal, you know that, Barton?” He asked.

Clint just smiled and shrugged, then they were off back into the city and out of the little coffee shop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me start by apologizing for how long this took.  
> I hope everyone is staying safe and social distancing. If you're an essential employee like me, I hope you're doing everything you can to stay safe.  
> Work has sort of taken over my life since Covid ramped up here, so.  
> This is not my favorite chapter. Part of the reason it took so long is, every time I had free time, I found myself writing about Bucky and Clint exploring outdoors. I guess I miss fresh air. I've never really been satisfied with any version of this, but this is what I'm most content with and it helps set up where I want some things to go.  
> I hope you enjoyed rambling exposition and a glimpse into both of their background stories while reminiscing what it used to be like to go outside.  
> I hope to have another update soon.  
> Stay safe everyone!


	4. Play It Again

There were three soft beeps, indicating that someone was using a key card at his door. That was his only warning before it opened and Natasha blew inside, tossing her bag onto the bed and flopping backwards onto it. Bucky supposed he should be glad he hadn’t been laying there, or she’d have thrown herself on top of him without a single concern in the world.

He picked at his guitar a bit more before he set it down beside the window and turned his chair to face her.

“Welcome back. How was your break?” He asked, and she groaned and made grabby hands in his direction.

Bucky moved, letting her call him over and climbed into the bed beside her. She curled up beside him and sighed softly.

“It was a nice break, but I’m glad to be back here with you.” She admitted, then smiled, keeping her eyes closed. “Though, it doesn’t seem like you were all that lonely.” She teased, cracking an eye to gauge his response.

Which, well. He could have reacted better.

His face turned bright red, the tips of his ears burning, and he stuttered for a moment.

“It’s- It’s not like that, Nat, really.” Bucky fumbled over his words, which made Natasha laugh and brush her fingers through his hair.

“Even if it was, that would be okay. You deserve to be happy, Buck.” She assured him, before patting his cheek and then sitting up in the bed. “So, you’ve got to tell me about your adventures with Barton. Regardless of whatever is going on between you two.”

Bucky sighed and rolled onto his back, telling her about the few days they had spend together. Throughout, he could feel himself smiling and hear himself laughing as he told stories of their adventures, even though it felt a little foreign to him. Not that he hadn’t enjoyed his time with Clint the last few days, it was just strange for him to share happy moments with someone other than Natasha, Steve and Tony these dates.

“Well, that picture you posted of him sure did break the internet.” Natasha said, once he’d finished telling his story. Bucky rolled his eyes.

“I turned off notifications from the post before I even made it. And disabled comments.” He said, which Natasha nodded at.

“Smart. But it’s raising questions. You knew it would.”

“I did.” He agreed, then they were quiet for a few beats. “Are people angry, or something?”

“Nah. They’re mostly happy.” She answered, and he felt himself let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. “There are some fiercely protective fans who are ready to fight Clint. But that’s just because they don’t know him yet.”

Bucky smiled, taking a moment to appreciate the fan base they’d built for themselves. Then he smiled. “It was a good picture.”

“It was a great picture.” Natasha nodded in agreement, then smirked down at him. “Great angle of his ass, too.”

He whacked her with a pillow, which made her laugh and slide off the bed. “Get back here, I’m not done with you.”

“I am, however, done with you.” She amended, smiling at him and lifting her bag form his mattress. “I am happy to see you enjoyed yourself. I wasn’t lying when I said you deserve to be happy. With or without Clint. But, for the record, he does seem to make you happy.”

Bucky couldn’t help the blush that rose on his cheeks again as he rolled his eyes. “I changed my mind, I am done with you. Goodbye, Natasha.” He said, kicking his leg in the general direction of the door. She rolled her eyes and blew him a kiss as she walked out of his room, heading for her own.

He laid on the bed for a bit longer, staring at the ceiling, thinking about the melody he’d been working on before Natasha walked in. He ran over some of the lyrics he liked to go along with the tune, trying to turn them into something that made sense.

He wasn’t entirely sure how long he’d been laying, thinking about music, before he realized someone was in the room again. Clint was leaning in the entry way, arms crossed over his chest with a soft smile on his lips. Bucky gave him a toothy grin as he pushed himself up on his elbows.

“Weirdo, how long were you watching me?” He asked, and Clint rolled his eyes and waved his hand before pushing off the wall to walk over to the guitar.

“A while. Writing a song?” Clint handed the guitar to Bucky, who nodded. “Well, can I hear it?”

“It doesn’t really make sense yet.” Bucky admitted, before he stretched his fingers out and started strumming, humming along the tune he wanted the lyrics to fit. He played through it twice before eventually singing the verse he’d come up with.

 _“I crashed down from a high, it felt so real. I never knew how much it would hurt to feel. You gotta hurt sometimes to learn to heal; you’ve gotta get back up and learn to deal.”_ He kept his voice low and soft, trailing off as he kept strumming over the melody a few more times before stopping to look up at Clint with a shrug.

“That was what you were just working on? Just now?” Clint asked, curiously, eyebrows raised.

“Yeah.” Bucky answered, before he shrugged again, feeling a little insecure about it. “I know it’s not much, but it’s been a while since I sat down and messed around with a song alone.”

Clint’s face broke into a smile and a little laugh bubbled out of his chest. “You’re unbelievable. That was amazing. It’s… real, you know?”

“I like to think all of our music is real,” Bucky replied, and Clint rolled his eyes before sitting beside Bucky on the edge of his bed.

“You know what I mean. That’s… it’s a great melody, great lyrics. Emotion. I can see why you were so caught up in your head now.” Clint explained. Bucky nodded, setting the guitar down on his mattress.

“Did you come down for a reason? Other than to make me sing to you.” He teased, bumping his knee against Clint’s.

“Oh! Yeah! I wanted to show you this.” He said, pulling his phone out of his pocket to shove into Bucky’s face.

It took a second for Bucky to focus on the screen, but when he did, his eyebrows shot up in surprise.

It was an article on TMZ with pictures of the two of them as they explored the city over the last few days, and the headline read “Renegades' Barnes Spends Day Off With Roadie Beau.”

“They know you’re part of the crew already?” Bucky asked, snatching the phone from him to read a few lines, which detailed both of their recent breakups and speculated about a new romance budding between the two of them. “Why do they assume you’re gay? You were married to a woman.”

“I’ve posted about being on the crew, so they probably just looked into me. You did tag me in the picture.” Clint answered, before he shrugged. “And, I mean, I’ve never been shy about being open with my sexuality. I’m fairly certain Bobbi talked about how I’m bi. If they found that while they were looking into me, I guess they think it’s not a stretch that we’re dating.”

Bucky tried really hard to focus after Clint admitted to being bisexual, but he only managed to catch a few words, then registered Clint had stopped talking. He also tried really hard not to comment. “I didn’t know you were bi,” spilled past his lips anyway.

“Oh, really?” Clint asked, tilting his head to glance up at Bucky with a little smile before he shrugged and then looked down at the carpet before him. “It’s not a big deal.”

Bucky went quiet then, worrying that he’d overstepped. Not wanting the quiet understanding they’d been building between one another disappear, he stood and held a hand out for Clint.

“C’mon, let’s go get lunch and send the internet into more of an uproar.” He said with a little grin, which made Clint laugh.

\---

They hadn’t even finished eating their food before Natasha was sending Bucky pictures of him and Clint sitting at their table in the restaurant they’d gone to. He slid the phone across the table to Clint, who raised an eyebrow and glanced around.

“Wait, where’s Natasha at?” He asked, and Bucky snorted and shook his head.

“She’s not here. These are from other people in here, they’re popping up on social media.” He answered, setting his napkin on the table and leaning back to stretch a little. “I told you people would get a little crazy after I posted the picture of you.”

Clint laughed and shook his head, taking another bite of his sandwich. “I thought shit was crazy with Bobbi, but this is a whole new level.”

Bucky laughed softly at that, taking his phone back to reply to Natasha.

“Wait, send her this.” Clint closed his eyes and grinned, holding up both his middle fingers towards Bucky’s camera. Bucky laughed and was quick to snap the picture, sending it to Natasha with a few black heart emojis before opening it again to show Clint.

“I think I may have found my new ID picture for you, loser.” He teased.

“That’s the one you should upload to Instagram. Think of the chaos that would start.” Clint teased, and Bucky rolled his eyes.

“Nah, I really dislike social media.” He said, putting the phone back in his pocket. “It's great when it works for promotion and keeping a connection with fans, but... it gives people a complex. They see one picture I share and they think they know what it means. I want to show off an artsy picture of my friend, and they see me showing off a boyfriend.”

“I get it. I sort of deleted most of my apps from my phone after Bobbi. I had too many people reaching out all the time. People I knew, people I didn’t. It was too much.” Clint sympathized. “A few weeks after Bobbi and I broke up, she posted a picture where she wasn’t wearing her ring, or this necklace I gave her…” He trailed off, deciding that was a detail he didn’t need to go into right now. “Her fans flipped out, they kept tagging me in the comments and asking what had happened, like it was any of their business. And I was in a pretty bad place at the time. I had to delete the app, or I’d have kept sulking and reading the comments about how good we were together.” Clint trailed off, a bit awkwardly.

Bucky didn’t think he’d meant to unload all of that, but sometimes, when you found someone who understood the weirdness of being a famous (or famous adjacent) person on social media, it was nice to lament about it. So, Bucky sighed and leaned forward, letting his hand settle over Clint’s for a moment, with a small, sad smile. He'd be lying if he said it hadn't hurt a little part of his chest to hear how sad Clint sounded while he shared his experience. 

“I’m sorry, man. That sucks. But hey, I turned off the comments so we don’t have to read what people think about us if we don’t want to.”

Clint huffed out a short laugh and shrugged, then. “I don’t know, man, people seem to really dig the idea of us together.” Bucky snorted at that, leaning back in his chair again. “And if people were taking pictures of us just sitting here eating, what do you think that little hand holding moment just did to the internet?”

Bucky paled and his mouth opened and closed a few times, unsure of what to say. “I didn’t… I wasn’t thinking about…”

“It’s cool.” Clint laughed again, before he was pushing his chair away from the table and stood. “Wanna get out of here before we spark anymore rumors?” He asked. Bucky nodded, so they walked to the counter to pay before heading back to the hotel.

\---

Along the way, they talked about the tour resuming the next day, and how nice it would be to have everyone back together and be on the road again. Bucky talked about some of the song ideas he had, and Clint weighed in with what he thought of the concepts.

Back in Bucky’s room, they sat on the bed facing one another as Bucky played though a few more melodies he had been toying with, but hadn’t perfected as much as the one he’d played for Clint earlier. Clint listened to a few of them with a soft smile, before one made him sit up a little straighter.

He made grabby hands when Bucky finished the tune, so he handed the guitar over to him. Clint toyed with the strings a few times before picking up the tune as though Bucky had taught it to him, even though he’d only heard it two or three times. Then, he added a new chord progression that had Bucky raising an eyebrow and grinning, nodding in time with it. “What about that?” Clint eventually asked, and Bucky laughed.

“That’s great! I didn’t know you could spot learn like that.” He admitted. It was /amazing/. He wanted to ask Clint to play more, but then Clint was passing the guitar back to him with a shrug.

“It’s not a big deal.”

It was the second time that day Clint had said something to that effect, and Bucky suddenly worried that someone had made Clint feel like the things he could do and the way he felt weren’t important.

“It is to me.” He said, quietly, pushing the guitar back into his hands gently. “Will you play more for me? It can be anything.”

And that’s how he ended up laying across his pillows, watching Clint play a bunch of songs on his guitar.

Clint had started out with a few Renegades songs, before he drifted off into Country-sounding tunes that Bucky didn’t recognize, but thought were beautiful. The first song he played, Clint seemed hesitant and almost nervous, but the more he played, a little smile crossed his face. He looked more focused than Bucky had ever seen him, and he didn’t even have to look at his fingers to know he was playing the right thing, showing he was well rehearsed in what he was doing.

Before Bucky knew it, the room was turning a hazy orange color as the sun started to set. Again, he’d lost time, wrapped up in music. But this time, it was Clint’s music, and Clint seemed to be lost in it, too. It was nice, Bucky thought, seeing him so relaxed and in his element. He didn’t bother pointing out to him how much time had passed, just let him keep playing.

Eventually, he stopped and glanced up at Bucky with a shy little smile. “Uh, sorry, I think I kind of… drifted off there.” He huffed out a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck as he looked at the clock. “For a while, it seems.”

“It’s okay. I liked it. You’re really good. You can play for me whenever you want.” Bucky said, and Clint blushed a little and wow, did that give Bucky a weird satisfaction.

“Uh, thanks.” He mumbled, before he rolled his shoulders and cracked his back. “I think I’m going uh, go now. I should shower, and I’ll probably order room service for dinner. You should eat something, too.” Clint tacked on, before he stood and walked toward the door. When he got there, he turned to Bucky and gave a little wave.

“Good night, Clint.” Bucky said, returning the wave with a smile. Clint smiled, then seemed to hesitate in the entry way, before leaving.

Only after the door shut did Bucky realize he didn’t really want Clint to have left. He collapsed back into his pillows, closing his eyes. Instead of the inside of his eyelids, he could still see Clint before him, smiling softly while playing his guitar. It was a good look on him.

“Shit,” He grumbled, pulling out his phone to text Natasha.

When she let herself into his room a few moments later, he was still laying back in his pillows with his guitar near his legs.

“What’s up, buttercup?” She asked, climbing onto the bed beside him and carefully moving the guitar, before tucking herself under his arm.

“We might have a problem.” He said, softly. She looked up at him, expectantly, and he sighed. “I think I like Clint.”

“He’s easy to like, why is that a—” Natasha trailed off, before she was pushing herself up to get a better look at Bucky’s face. “Wait, seriously?”

“Yes, seriously.” He mumbled, throwing his arm over his eyes. “I didn’t want him to leave when he just went back to his room, I can’t stop thinking about his stupid smile and how happy he looked when he was playing my guitar.”

“No, I meant seriously, you’re just realizing you like him.” Natasha replied.

Bucky scowled and hit her with his pillow, launching them into a full blown pillow fight.

When they were collapsing back onto the bed, laughing and exhausted, Natasha ran her fingers through Bucky’s long hair with a sigh.

“Sweetie, it’s not a bad thing. You’re allowed to have feelings, you know?”

“He’s part of the crew, Nat, I can’t…” Bucky trailed off.

There were a lot of places he could take the end of the sentence. He couldn’t get involved with someone on their crew. He couldn’t risk the tour. He couldn’t risk their careers again, the way he had last time. He couldn’t put Clint in that position. He couldn’t lose the friendship they’d created.

“You can.” Natasha said, gently, before she shrugged. “But if you feel like you can’t, you don’t have to do anything about it, you know? You can just have a crush. It doesn’t have to turn into anything.”

Bucky went quiet for a few minutes. Just have a crush on Clint. It didn’t ever have to mean anything.

Eventually, he nodded at her.

He could do that.

At least, he hoped he could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lyrics Bucky sings in this chapter are from, shocker here, Some Kind of Disaster by All Time Low.
> 
> Again, sorry for the delay!  
> I really missed writing so I kind of threw this together, and this is me tossing it out into the world before I let myself overthink it and re-write it a million times, because I'm actually kind a satisfied with the result.


	5. Going Through The Motions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well.
> 
> I'm back?
> 
> Sorry isn't enough to say for how long it's been. 
> 
> I've been feeling really off lately, and I think a lot of it is that I haven't written in so long. So, here's me trying to get back into my groove. 
> 
> Enjoy?

Things got hectic after their little break.

Six days straight of performances every night in different cities, along with a few radio and television appearances scattered throughout the week.

By the time the sixth show ended, Bucky was practically vibrating with pent up energy.

He was bouncing around backstage, shoving Steve around playfully, feeling more alive than he had felt in long while. Gigging had been hard to get back into the swing of at first, but it was all worth it once things felt normal.

He was like that the entire ride on the bus to the next hotel, laughing and busting with energy.

When he was alone in his room, though… that was different.

It hit him head on, like a brick wall, as soon as he closed the door to his hotel room behind him and he was alone in the darkness. All the joy and excitement he had felt bubbling up in his chest for the last week crashed, hard.

He had no concept of what time it was, or how long he hadn’t moved for, but he found himself sitting on the floor between the bed and the wall, heart racing, not able to catch his breath.

Obviously, this was how it was all going to end. There was no other explanation, he was clearly having a heart attack brought on by how many drugs he had done in the past. Why it was happening now? No idea. But that’s what it had to be.

Tears were streaming down his face as he gasped for air. He vaguely registered lights turning on in the room but couldn’t hear anything over the pounding of his heart, and he couldn’t see through his tear-filled eyes.

The next thing he knew, he was sitting on the floor of the shower, fully clothed, under a steady stream of warm water, pressed tight to Clint’s also-fully-clothed chest. Steam was filling the shower stall, and it was making it a little easier to breathe.

As Bucky caught his breath, the tears came to a stop, and the pain in his chest lifted some, leaving a dull ache behind. At least it was manageable.

They stayed in the shower until the water started to cool off, which is when Clint ran his fingers through Bucky’s hair. “I’m gonna turn the water off now, so we don’t freeze, okay?” He asked, quietly. Bucky opened his mouth to answer, but his voice refused to work, so he just nodded.

Clint turned off the water, before stepping out of the shower to grab towels, before coming back, handing one to Bucky. “C’mon, let’s get into dry clothes, then we can listen to music.”

Bucky dried his hair out a bit first, before he patted his face and arms dry. Clint had stepped out of the shower and taken his shirt off to dry his chest, but when he caught how Bucky was looking at him, he gave a little smile. He dropped his towel, and held both hands out for Bucky.

“I’m fine.”

His voice cracked, hoarser than it had sounded in a long time, but Clint just rolled his eyes and continued to hold his hands out. So, Bucky (reluctantly) reached out to grab hold of Clint’s forearms, pulling himself up onto his feet.

Suddenly, he was happy to be holding onto Clint.

His legs felt like jello, as though his knees simply didn’t exist anymore and his bones had been replaced with noodles.

Clint didn’t say anything as he helped him back into the room and sat him down in the desk chair, before rooting through his bags for fresh clothes. Bucky didn’t even have the energy to complain about Clint digging through his bags. He just took the clothes offered to him, and carefully stripped, drying himself off as he went, and changing as Clint cleaned up the trail of water they’d left in the bathroom.

“You dressed?” Clint asked, and Bucky could only hum in response, before he came back into the room. He was still wearing his soaked through jeans when he walked over to Bucky to take his hands and lead him to the bed.

Bucky sat back against his pillows and took a few deep, centering breaths before pointing at his duffle.

“You can borrow clothes.” He mumbled, finding his voice sounded less abrasive if he kept it low and soft.

Clint glanced at the bag, before smiling at Bucky and nodding in response. He disappeared into the bathroom for another moment, before returning in a pair of Bucky’s sweatpants and shirts.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Clint asked, sitting on the edge of the bed beside him, hooking his phone up to the small alarm-clock radio that had an iPhone attachment.

Bucky shrugged, so Clint just nodded, turned on Nirvana at a reasonable volume, and wrapped an arm around Bucky’s shoulders.

About 20 songs in, Bucky shifted so he was in more of a laying position, with his head on Clint’s chest, listening to his steady heartbeat, trying to match their breathing.

He didn’t realize he had fallen asleep until the sun was shining in his face. Groaning, Bucky shifted, pressing his face farther into Clint’s chest, before freezing on the spot.

After a few moments of Clint not laughing at him, Bucky opened his eyes to find a face-full of sleepy Clint wrapped around him, wearing his clothes. Wearing his favorite, well-worn Led Zeppelin shirt. For a long moment, he had no idea how he got here, or why Clint was in his bed wearing his clothes.

Then, flashes of the night came back to him all at once, but none of them giving him a full understanding of what had happened.

He thought he was dying, then Clint showed up, threw him in the shower and he was okay again.

Well, okay was a loose term here.

His chest still felt tighter than usual, and it seemed like he was breathing a bit oddly. But it was a hell of a lot better than feeling like his lungs were on fire, or whatever the fuck had happened the night before.

Apparently, he was moving too much, because Clint grumbled and lifted his head, barely opening one eye before dropping his head back down on the pillows under him.

“Mornin’.” Clint grumbled, before he shifted, bringing the hand that wasn’t wrapped around Bucky’s back to his ear. He shifted the hearing aid, massaging his ear lobe for a moment before settling it back into place.

Bucky watched him, a little in awe, before he rested his chin on Clint’s chest and stared up at him, confused. “Why did you stay?”

There wasn’t even a moment of hesitation before Clint was answering.

“You needed someone. I could be that.” He shrugged, rubbing Bucky’s back.

“How did you know what was happening?” Bucky asked, mustering up all his energy to /not/ close his eyes or make embarrassing sounds at Clint’s touch.

Clint thought for a moment, not even processing how his hand was still rubbing small circles into Bucky’s shoulder blades.

“I guess I just recognized something in your eyes?” It was more of a question in response than an answer, but he elaborated. “You were in a good mood, I could tell, but… there was also some kind of impending doom in them? And I didn’t know what that would translate to, so I figured I’d check in on you. And when I found you having a panic attack, I just… did what usually works for me? And hoped for the best.”

Panic attack?

“Is that what that was?” Bucky asked, shoving himself up onto his elbows to look up at Clint, curiously.

“Oh, uh. If you’ve never had one before, then I can’t say for sure? But it was kinda similar to mine, so. I’m guessing?” Clint shrugged, pulling his hand away from Bucky’s back. He missed it’s weight and pressure immediately but didn’t say so.

Bucky was quiet for a long time, just staring up at Clint, before he sat up and sighed, stretching his back before grunting and holding his ribs. They burned, like he’d spent the night vomiting.

“Yeah, it’ll probably feel shitty for a few days. At least we have the night off?” Clint asked with a little grin, pushing himself up so he was resting on his elbows.

“I guess.” Bucky mumbled, quietly.

“Do you want to talk about it now?” Clint asked again, cautiously, after a moment. “We don’t have to. I just… figured I’d offer.”

Bucky picked at the sheets, avoiding meeting Clint’s eye, before he shrugged, mimicking his answer from the night before. When Clint didn’t say anything else, Bucky sighed.

“I don’t know what happened. I’ve never had a panic attack before. I don’t know what could have triggered it. It was a good show, we’ve had a good week, I don’t…” Bucky trailed off, realization slowly sinking in.

Clint gave him a few minutes of silence, before he spoke softly. “Did you figure out what could have triggered it?”

There was another few moments of silence, before Bucky sighed and ran his fingers through his hair.

The side effect of being back out on the road; the urge to use. He hadn’t even fully realized that’s what he was feeling. Why he was feeling like he was on top of the world. He was fully in his realm, and the way he /used/ to keep that high going was to stoke it with drugs.

“After a week like this, I would have gotten high. Like, so fucking high. I’d have came back to my room here last night and went on like, a minimum 12 hour binge.”

Clint sighed and nodded, before sitting up and throwing his legs over the edge of the bed.

“C’mon. I’ll go back to my room and change, then… I don’t know. Let’s go get breakfast somewhere, then we can go for a walk, or something.”

As Clint walked out of the room, Bucky groaned and flopped face first into his pillows for a moment before he also got up and got dressed. While he was brushing his teeth, his door flew open. He turned, expecting to find Clint, and raised an eyebrow when Natasha tipped her head at him instead.

"You wanna explain to me why I just ran into Hawkeye hurrying down the hallway in /your/ Zepplin shirt? The same one that I am explicitly not allowed to borrow? I'm also pretty sure he was in your Adidas sweatpants." 

Bucky rolled his eyes and rinsed his mouth before turning to shrug at her. "He slept in here last night."

Nat's face broke into a smile and she wiggled her eyebrows. "Kinky."

"Shut up," Bucky groaned, rolling his eyes and moving her out of the way so he could go back into the room. "It wasn't like that. I had a bad night. He helped me." When Natasha just kept staring at him the same way, he took a deep breath. "Clint thinks I had a panic attack." Natasha's face fell in an instant, and she moved closer to the edge of the bed across from him. "Before you freak out, I... I think I'm okay. But I wasn't last night, and he helped me. That's all that happened. Now we're going to get breakfast."

Natasha climbed into the bed and held her hand out, which Bucky eventually took with a huff. She squeezed it tightly, tugging him until he joined her on the bed and wrapped his arm around her shoulder. 

"I'm glad he was able to help you." She whispered, and Bucky nodded. "If you... I mean. I know you know this, but I'm always a room away. You can always call. I'm sorry I didn't notice anything was wrong." 

"Not your fault." Bucky shrugged, then his door was opening.

Again, he was expecting Clint to return, but instead, Sam appeared. "You can't have her, I'm taking her back." He called out immediately, tightening his grip around Natasha's shoulders to pull her close to him.

"Oh no. Whatever will I do? My girlfriend's heart has been stolen by a gay guy in denial about having the hots for a roadie." Sam said, keeping his voice completely neutral, before taking a running leap onto the bed, settling his head on Natasha's lap. 

"You told him?!" Bucky asked, pulling away from Natasha enough to look at her, scandalized. 

Natasha couldn't help but smile and shake her head. "No, but you just did." She said, and Bucky couldn't help but groan at how stupidly satisfied with himself Sam looked. 

"Oh-ho-ho, I knew it!" Sam cheered, wiggling in the bed in victory. "I've been trying to get it out of Nat for WEEKS, Barnes! Weeks! And you gave it up like it was NOTHING!"

The door opened and this time, it was finally Clint making his return. He raised an eyebrow at the scene before him, and Bucky quckily clamped his hand over Sam's mouth. 

"There's nothing to see here!" Bucky yelled, loudly, before quickly detatching himself from Natasha and moving out of the bed as fast as he could, ushering Clint back out the door. "Don't ask questions, let's just go get food."

"Uh, okay." Clint laughed, letting Bucky lead him around, waving his hand at Natasha and Sam over his shoulder.

"Enjoy your date!" Sam managed to yell before Bucky slammed the door behind them, but Clint didn't react, so Bucky had his fingers crossed that he'd somehow not heard him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's not much, but hopefully this is just brushing off the dust?

**Author's Note:**

> This is an idea I've been toying with for far too long, so I'm setting it loose. The rating is subject to change as time goes on. Hope you enjoy!


End file.
